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Wednesday, September 8, 2010

I'm Not Bitter

Joined the parade early in life Psychiatrists and therapists Marching to the tune of textbooks They gave my sorrow a name And I melded to the diagnosis Bipolar breath reeking of failure Sliding across the asphalt of anxietyToo long knocking at depression's door Knuckles bruised from fighting with myself Looks, actions, inabilities, and mistakes Reasons I'm constantly fighting this war All battles taking place in the mirror or headWishing to fight you/them instead Too terrified to fire at those potentially innocent This alien boy just wants compassion Where friendship and love lay dying in a ditchFor men steal, women lie, humanity shrugs The misanthrope is just a romantic who sees clearly And God knows he loves you all